


Tango

by bisexualnikiforov



Series: Dance Me to the End of Love [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Up, Pre-Slash, SaruMi - Freeform, i won't apologize for the dance references, post-Return of Kings, these boys are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualnikiforov/pseuds/bisexualnikiforov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tango (n): a ballroom dance originating in Buenos Aires, characterized by marked rhythms and postures and abrupt pauses</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Fushimi Saruhiko is in the hospital recovering from his fight with Sukuna Gojo, and Yata Misaki decides that "let's talk later" can't even wait until Fushimi is home.  Basically, it's the "let's talk later" sarumi fic that no one asked me to write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tango

**Author's Note:**

> tango (n): a ballroom dance originating in Buenos Aires, characterized by marked rhythms and postures and abrupt pauses
> 
> But those rhythms and abrupt paused were the nature of Fushimi and Yata's relationship.

Fushimi Saruhiko hated the metallic, over-sanitized scent that permeated hospitals. It reminded him not only of the awful memories around Fushimi Niki’s death but also his own physical weaknesses. That unnaturally clean smell, as well as the slightly too cold temperature and the thin scratchy blankets on the stiff beds, it all felt like a punishment for being so fragile. He hated the way being stuck here denoted another pause in this dance that some called life. He hadn’t even managed to stay the whole battle against JUNGLE, hadn’t even had the chance to properly enjoy being on the same side as his precious Misaki once more.

The doctor said that the knife had only been 0.5 centimeters from hitting Fushimi’s femoral artery. Half a centimeter was the only thing that had kept Fushimi from bleeding out, the only reason he was still alive. The doctor gave Fushimi morphine and stitched the wound. But Fushimi’s hands were too cold and his face was to pale to indicate good health. The significant amount of blood that he had lost left him anemic, so he would be forced to stay cooped up in this sterile prison they called a hospital for overnight in order to receive blood transfusions and IV nutritional supplements. The pause continued another beat.

“Fushimi, you have a visitor,” the nurse said from the doorway.

Yata Misaki appeared from behind the nurse. His hazel eyes were exhausted, but he grinned when he saw Fushimi. “Mind if I come in?” he asked sheepishly.

“That’d be fine,” Fushimi replied, finding his heart suddenly racing with anxiety.

Yata sat down on the chair beside Fushimi’s hospital bed. “I was going to wait until you were out of the hospital to have that talk you promised me, but now you’re going to be here overnight and I can’t leave you here by yourself that long. So I guess we’re just going to have to do this here.” Yata inhaled sharply. He looked just as nervous as Fushimi felt. “I want to fix things between us.”

“It can never go back to the way it was before,” Fushimi stated plainly. That wasn’t the rhythm between them, reverting to something old. No, their rhythm was defined by its starts and stops that never quite returned to them to the previous position.

“Why the hell did you agree to talk if you weren’t even going to give this another chance?” Yata shouted, his face turning red with anger.

Tsk, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say,” Fushimi answered. “We can’t go back to how things were before, and we can’t simply start over like the past few years never happened. We’re not the same people we were in middle school. So don’t expect whatever comes from our second chance to be exactly like how it was then because it can’t be.”

Yata was silent for a moment, processing Fushimi’s words. Fushimi hoped that Yata would understand this much. It had been a struggle to be even that open with how he felt. He dreaded he idea of being more explicit with his emotions.

“I guess we did both fuck each other up a lot over the past couple of years, huh?” Yata replied. “Can’t exactly come back from all that fighting like nothing ever happened.”

“Exactly,” Fushimi agreed.

“But you’ll still try to work things out? You’ll really keep saying things until I understand just like you said you would? Because I do want to have you back in my life again, and you know, not as an enemy.”

“I’d like that, too.” Fushimi suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious and averted his eyes from Yata’s grinning face. This idiot with his skateboard and his pride and his beautiful smile was going to destroy all the protective walls Fushimi had built around himself. He would not hesitate to alter the rhythm and routine in which Fushimi had planned his life. And Fushimi would let it happen.

“I don’t know where to start trying to catch up with you,” Yata admitted.

“Is that so? It used to be that you would never shut up, so why is it that you’re tongue-tied now, Misaki?”

“Don’t call me by my first name when we’re in public.”

“There is no one else in this room but the two of us.” But Fushimi took Yata’s warning as a sign that maybe he was at least allowed to call Yata by his first name again whenever they were alone together. The name, although too feminine for Yata’s personality, had always formed so easily on Fushimi’s tongue. He relished in the beauty of every individual syllable, the name of his first and only friend. Would it taste better now that he was permitted to use it once more?

“I guess you’re right, but you never know when someone could walk in.”

“Tsk, I don’t see why you’re acting so childish about your name anyway.”

“You think I’m being childish but I bet you still don’t eat your vegetables,” Yata retorted.

“Well at least I’m not still child-sized because I drank my milk growing up unlike some people.”

“I save your ass and you call me short. Fucking monkey.” Yata suddenly broke out into raucous laughter. Fushimi could not remember the last time he had seen Yata look so carefree and happy. “I forgot how much fun it was to argue with you when it wasn’t followed by a physical fight,” Yata explained once he calmed down.

A surge of guilt went through Fushimi. It was his fault that their fights stopped being just another part of how they got along. He spent years taking it too far just to see some kind of emotion in Yata whenever they crossed each other’s paths. Not even a week ago, Fushimi was the enemy, the traitor.

But now, he was someone Yata could laugh around. So Fushimi let out a light chuckle. “Only you would get sentimental about arguing with someone,” he half teased.

“I’d rather argue with you than spend my time alone in silence.” Yata paused. He looked vulnerable for the first time since he’d walked into Fushimi’s hospital room. “I don’t care if you’re one of the Blues now and I’m still part of HOMRA. Kusanagi was telling me about how everyone could tell HOMRA wasn’t the right place for you, and I was the only person who was really surprised when you left. But I guess if you joined HOMRA for my sake even if it wasn’t right for you, then that would make me the traitor, huh? Not to a clan, but to you. I couldn’t see that you belonged with the Blues. All I cared about was Mikoto and never feeling powerless again. I didn’t even notice my own best friend was unhappy. If I had noticed, maybe we would have been able to stay friends this whole time.”

“Don’t talk like that, Misaki. I knew you couldn’t see how I felt and I still never said anything. Besides, the world doesn’t work in ‘what ifs’. Neither of us can take back what happened.” Because if they could, Fushimi would give up just about anything to have never lost the way Yata used to look at him.

“But we can move forward, yeah?” Yata urged.

“Yeah.” Fushimi wanted nothing more than to move forward with Yata at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own K or any of the characters associated with it. All rights belong to GoRA x GoHands.


End file.
